Thirteen in One
by Fuckshit Avenue
Summary: Who knew being the only boy had its ups?
1. WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A SEAT OVER THERE?

Lincoln darted around the bend of the hallway, giant throbbing ten-foot manschlong of throbbing passion jutting like a manly meat monolith into the air, precum raining down on whomstever lagged behind him. A flood of prejac, enormous and biblical in its proportions, could not ever stop him from what he was to do now.

There yonder, not ten feet before him, was an unsuspecting...uh...hold on a second, lemme check the wiki—

Leni...Luna...Luan...uh...Lori! Let's go with Lori. Thanks Lori.

—was an unsuspecting Lori, giant fucking boulders of assfat hanging off her lower back and capping off her curved and full thighs.

"BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO _MOM'S GONNA_ _ **FREAK**_ " hollered Lincoln, as he African-speared his maypole of thrusty-busty-musky-mutton hunk of vagina venison right into his sister's doodoo trench.

"LINCOLN WHAT THE FUCK"

But it was no use, dear reader, as in a matter of seconds her entire body disappeared. Vaporized. Dematerialized. In fact, his surroundings suddenly shattered into millions of strange, polygonal shards, revealing nothing but a long, black plane outstretching, painted with a green lattice that trailed into the distance.

"Y'know, it's kind of hard trying to rape your sister in a house of thirteen people. Sometimes, you have to improvise. And when impr—"

His words cut off as a tall, slender, sable mannequin overlapped with that strange green cyber-trellis transpired ahead of Lincoln. As if it were the will of some otherworldly force, the mannequin gained an apricot color, a blazer enveloped him, with khakis, combed brown hair, and a stern face bordering on the paternal.

"Kind of eager, aren't you?" he said, voice grandfatherly but totally commanding.

"Why don't you have a seat right there?"

A stool coalesced behind him, and an invisible hand pushed him into sitting.

"Big evening planned, huh?"

"Uh…" he paused. "No, uh, no sir."

"Really?" the man said. A table corporealized in front of him, which he promptly leaned over, a stapled stack of paper clutched within one of his hands.

"So you were just running down the hallway of this house, cock out and erect, trying to jump up on a lady who didn't know you were there?"

"Well—well, uh, no, I was just...uh...doing nothing, sir."

"Nothing? Hmmm…" his nonchalance disappeared, he stood tall, thumb and forefinger on his chin, sheet of papers tucked under the pit of his arm.

"Can you at least tell us what you were doing tonight, sir?"

"I...I…" he sighed. "I was going to have sex with Lori."

"And how old is this ' _Lori'_ you speak of?"

"S...Seventeen."

"Seventeen? You _do_ know the legal age of consent in Royal Woods, don't you?"

Lincoln exhaled, shuddering.

"That's _grotesque._ " another voice said. A man had appeared, shorter than the other, in a strange yellow radiation suit, curly hair, oversized black goggled and the word "DEVO" in thick black lettering imprinted on his breast.

"That's right, Mark Mothersbaugh from the post-punk band DEVO." the suited man said.

"I agree, fellow homo sapien."

Both men returned their glares to Lincoln.

"So you knew that the girl you were contacting was seventeen, but, you said this in your chatlogs..." he flipped open to a page within the stack of papers he was carrying.

" _Your bobs very big, I'm kiss your bobs...hai butiful show bobs and vegana...so...lets have sexi sex, cloth off._ Is that any way to speak to an underage girl online?"

"No, sir…"

"So what do you think should happen to you, now that you've done this?"

Lincoln loud merely sunk his head into his hands, silent.

"Not saying anything?"

No sound.

"Well I think you've said enough. Just in case you have a parting message, say it now. If not…"

A party of men emerged, holding bulky cameras and mobile spotlights. Lincoln hid his face with his shirt and stool up from the stool.

"I'm Chris Hansen with Dateline NBC, we're doing stories on internet predators who solicit sex with minors. You're free to leave the house."

 _tuh bih kuntinued in layturh jabters..._


	2. WWWWET PUPPY NOOOOSEEEES

"You know what I'm going to call someone today?" Lincoln Loud said. "White trash. Yeah, that's stinging. That's a biter. That one's gonna put someone in their place. All these righteous Catholic faggots ganging up on me at recess and pounding the shit out of me because I'm dating a mestizo...I'm gonna make 'em pay, they're gonna receive a verbal pounding."

He saw Ronnie Anne in the distance. His junk perked up and nearly tore through his jeans. His genitals could best be described as a cone with a mushroom top: circular and broad at its base, curving to a sharp point capped by a strange club-shaped glans. With his fleshy strobiloid thick and iron-dense, he approached the filthy Latina who smelt of weeks-old cabbage and raisins.

"You wait a second there, son."

A grisled, gnarled hand dusted with hair clapped onto Lincoln's shoulder. Stunned, he twisted around and came face-to-face with his father, Lynn Sr., but...something was off. His hair, balding though it was, was completely shaved, his head now a crystalline and bald dome. On his forehead was sliced six lines swirling into one point, tilted clockwise...a swastika.

Uncharacteristic tattoos veiled his stern face. Quotes in German and Italian, various militaristic symbols, some of eagles, other of rod-girdled axes, even a few skulls, enshrouded his erstwhile fatherly face.

"Lincoln, I'll be damned if any of my children are dating Negroes or Spics alike." His eyebrows whittled downward, a long, thin vein crossing the side of his ink-coated face. "And what do I see in front of me but a fucking burrito-vending wetback beaner-girl?"

Lynn's eyes clouded over, turning white, then glowed. He pushed his son aside, falling to the seat of his pants. Two powerful beams shot from his sockets and obliterated Ronnie Anne, reducing her body to scattered ashes.

" _DAD!_ " Lincoln screamed, tears choking his words. "You fucking monster! You're part of the Playground Catholics, aren't you? Fucking _monster!_ "

"Son, do I look like a Judeo-Catholic to you? I'm a pure-hearted Protestant, through and through. And I'll be equally damned if any so-called 'boy' curses in front of his own father." He spread a giant fucking hand and smacked the shit out of Lincoln, sending him flying. He skidded to the ground on his back, rugburn flaring over his backbone.

"And what did I hear about you callin' someone white trash? You ain't so refined in your manners, are you?" Another powerful slap annihilated Lincoln's face. A ghostly phantom rose from Lynn Sr. (his name was now Lynntler) of a slick-haired German with a square mustache above his upper-lip.

Plumes of smoke curled up from Lincoln's pores. He screeched, twisted, thrashed, but it was no use.

"IF I CAN'T SLAP THE JEW OUTTA YOU, I CAN SURE AS HELL BAKE IT INTO SMOKE!"

Minutes passed of agonized shrieking, before Lincoln's body was now a half-withered and gray carcass. His hair rotted into a snowy pile next to his head, and his eye sockets were empty black holes leading to mushed gray matter.

AND THEN FUCKING DANNY ELFMAN APPEARED HOLY SHIT

He just swaggered the fuck up, leaned against the brick wall of the school, wife beater and everything on.

"Oh shit, I know you! You were the—the, uh, uh, vocalist! The vocalist for Oingo Boingo! Dude, I fucking love your songs!" Lynntler said.

"Thanks bro. By the way, I retired from singing and now I am servant to a certain dreadful man reposing down below." he said, voice crooning and pitching like a fucking Disney villain.

"Satan?"

"Yup. So I need your son's body for a monetary transaction on behalf of Lucifer, of course ol' Lincoln's going straight to Hell." he said. "Dirty Jew." he lit a cigarette just so he could flick it on Lincoln's corpse. "Good think is, not much of him is left, so the trip to the Inferno should be pretty leisurely. Oh and by the way, about that swastika on your forehead…"

"Oh, you mean this?" he pointed to the Indo-European rune on his forehead.

"Yeah...you aren't a Nazi, are you?"

"A Nazi? No, I'm just a Republican."


	3. PUNISHED CHRIS, A MAN DENIED HIS DECOY

**HELLO, THIS IS FUCKSHIT AVENUE. A REMINDER THAT I DO READ REVIEWS AND LUCKILY I FOUND QUITE A HUMOROUS ONE:**

" _*Sees pentagram tattoo on on Rita Loud's neck.*_

 _Danny Elfman:'Are you a satanist?'_

 _Rita:'No, I'm just a Democrat.'_ "

 **I ENJOYED THIS POST.**

-(...)-

Gucci Genghis Khan sat in his throne of chicken cheekbones, which were made out of small wax statues of Buddha. Every shift and micromovement Gucci Genghis made, one thousand tremors from Hell erupted across Gay Mongolia, vibrating Vishnu's prolapsed anus, who had been laughing for almost twenty years.

It reformed his bone structure, so now he's filled with gallons of hot sauce and shredded burger slushies—all-American, of course. Gucci leaned forward, and a great deluge of blueberry-flavored rectal grease flooded forth, seeping into every crevice of Gay Mongolia and mending the cracks and ravines produced by his shifts and shimmies.

Chris Hansen lay in the endless abyssal pit of G'ryuthna, banished by the Elder Beings for eternity. Chains of solid steel bounded him within his blazing sarcophagus in Hell, where he had been tortured to death by Satan personally for five-hundred thousand aeons. But finally, his punish had been relinquished. The chains dissolved into microscopic particles and the great lid of the coffin lifted open, revealing Chris, face gnarled with manly scars and and a black eyepatch stretched over his face.

Now he was Punished Chris of G'ryuthna, the powers contained within him for countless eons now only compounded. The foolish Elders had no idea they were merely fanning an ever-burning flame.

And Chris laughed. He laughed a never-ending laugh which rang through all the cosmos as he slashed, exploded, and obliterated G'ryuthna and the legions of pedophiles therein. Blood and vapor rose from the destroyed city ruins, the vile hummocks of non-Euclidean architecture shattered and smouldering.

What now? What now could they do, that Pedoslayer Hansen had been unleashed with vengeance indescribable and fury incalculable? They were doomed surely, for they were at the mercy of the merciless, the remorse of the remorseless, the relent of the relentless. Beams and orbs of energy shot down upon G'ryuthna, annihilation the lord of the land.

What now indeed! What now indeed!


End file.
